To Err is Human
by Herculeha
Summary: Oneshot ArthurxMolly. An angsty, romantic story that puts a whole new spin on the series and adds great strength to the redheaded couple's relationship.


**Quote credits go to the brilliant Alexander Pope. Although this is a long one-shot, I hope you will take the time to read it. Thank you, and please enjoy!**

**To Err is Human**

_By Herculeha_

Arthur Weasley had stopped living four years ago.

Oh, sure, he was still walking around, breathing, existing. He even had a job — second-string assistant to the head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts at the Ministry of Magic. He had a place of his own, too — a filthy little flat the size of a broom cupboard in Diagon Alley. In fact, he also had a girlfriend — at least, he thought he did. He hadn't seen her in over a month. For all he cared, she was dead. That would at least explain her absence.

Four years ago, he had had everything. He was living the life at eighteen years old, fresh out of Hogwarts and all ready to become the perfect husband to the perfect wife: Molly Prewett. Oh, how he had loved her. He remembered the late nights they would spend wandering the castle, holding hands and basking in the sacred silence. She always knew just when he needed to talk and when he needed quiet. Oh yes, life had been perfect.

But there was nothing left of that life. His ambition was gone. He had forgotten how to enjoy the simple things. Even his love for Molly was gone.

Funny enough, innocence had caused his misery.

A pink-faced, soft-skinned, bundle of innocence.

_

* * *

_

_Arthur watched in horror as Molly held out the tiny bundle to the James Potter._

_"Here," she said stonily, jerking the baby a little in her arms so James would get the hint and take it. "He's yours. I can't live with this emblem of my guilt anymore."_

_James stared, horrified._

_"Mine?" James choked at the same time Arthur gagged as he attempted to say, "His?"_

_Molly nodded emotionlessly. "That's what I said."_

_Arthur shoved forward, his stomach squirming unpleasantly. Molly had not explained why she wanted to visit the Potters at their home in Godric's Hollow. His mouth opened wordlessly for a minute before he said weakly, "Clearly there's been some mix-up…"_

_"No mix-up. This is James's."_

_Arthur was ashamed at the tears he felt burning his throat. Surely he had more trust in his dear Molly? He should not be crying; he should be firmly shaking his head, laughing at the absurdity of Molly's suggestion. He should take her by the arm and say, "Molly…dear, you must be dreadfully sick. Come home and let's lie down. How could this baby be James's?" He should not even be entertaining the thought that the baby wasn't his! No, no…he was certainly not supposed to feel a storm brewing in his stomach, because that would mean somewhere deep inside him, he believed what he was hearing._

_Arthur was angry now. Just what did Molly think she was doing? Giving up their precious child to James and Lily? Why, Arthur had only taken her out to lunch…he did not even want to make this unexpected stop. If Molly was joking, it was not funny at all._

_Molly would not look at either of them. She just stood in the doorway, proffering the tiny baby, which had begun to cry._

_All this time, James had been staring wordlessly at the baby. Finally he said in a monotone voice, "You and Lily have got similar eyes. This baby got your eyes. But he's got my — "_

_But just what trait of James's the baby had inherited, Arthur never heard because at that moment he felt as though someone had socked him in the stomach, very hard. James had been very indirect about it, but he had admitted it. James had not fussed at all. He had openly admitted that the baby was indeed his. Which could only mean —_

_"Arthur."_

_He shook his head. No…no, Molly wouldn't do that. She wouldn't do that…_

_"Arthur, listen to me… You don't know how many times I've tried to tell you…"_

_Maybe if he ignored it all, it would go away. If he closed his ears to the nasty, hateful words, maybe it would make them not true. My…what an interesting crack on the ceiling of the Potters' front hall. He had never noticed that crack before, though he had been in their house many times. It cut across the ragged ridges of the drywall ceiling like a snake across a raging river. But it was kind of curled at the end, so it better resembled one of those party blowers —_

_"Arthur, you aren't listening. Please, dear, I need you to listen to me."_

_Or maybe it was still a snake. Yes, a snake with a rattler. Most people were afraid of rattlers, and Arthur had to admit that he was too, but it was nice that the creatures had a way of warning people before they got to close. More animals should have warning systems like that, he thought. What a nice place the world would be. Nice? Ah, yes, that was a very nice crack…_

* * *

Arthur almost tripped over Molly when he returned to his apartment after his shift at four o'clock AM.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled insincerely as he fumbled through his pockets for the key, "but I haven't got any money."

"I don't want your money," a ragged voice replied from the ground.

Arthur started. That voice was almost as familiar as his own.

Molly stood, her patched robes showering down to her feet. "Arthur."

He swallowed the tennis ball-sized lump in his throat. Why hadn't it been an ordinary beggar at his feet? That would have made things _so_ much easier.

"Please, dearest, look at me."

"Don't call me that," he snapped, back to rummaging through his coat pockets. "Oh toadstools, where's that key?"

If he would have bothered to look up, he would have seen pain and regret etched into every single line on Molly's face. She'd aged tremendously over the past four years. She looked much more tired and worn than was natural for her twenty-two years.

Her voice trembled as she said boldly, "You were always like this. Ignoring stuff that you didn't want to deal with. Always changing the subject." She held up his key between her index and middle fingers. "Well, unless you feel like spending the night on the street, you're going to have to deal with me."

He looked up, his sky-colored eyes revealing the pain in his heart. "Just give it to me."

She shook her head and swallowed, fiery hair swinging from side to side. "No. Actually admit that you know me. Stop treating me like a bothersome stranger."

"Fine. Please give it to me, _Molly_."

She sighed and ran a hand through her flaming hair. "Try looking at me."

He didn't want to. Because he knew if he did, he'd see the face of a woman he used to love. The face of a woman that betrayed him. He wasn't ready for that. So he stared fixedly at a dark stain on the fraying welcome mat outside his locked door.

Molly reached out a tentative hand and touched his arm.

He flinched as though scalded and stepped backward. A sudden, uncharacteristic burst of anger fueled him. "You've overstepped your bounds."

"It's very awkward having a conversation with someone who won't look at me."

"Dammit Molly, why do you have to be so stubborn?"

A small chuckle brushed past her lips. "It's in my blood. But my stubbornness is at its worst when I really love something. Or someone."

Silence hung over them, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

He finally made himself look at her. Finally filled his eyes with her face, drinking in every detail, every fragment of her being. He had to swallow another tennis ball lump. "L-love?" he stammered. His voice grew harsh and cynical. "Of course, we all betray the people we love! We all take a red-hot knife and stab it in our loved one's heart! We all go _sleeping around_ with someone when we're planning to marry another!" By now bitter tears were welling up in his eyes. He blinked them away, annoyed.

He ignored the surprised look on Molly's face: he had never spoken this way to anyone before, but heartbreak could really change a person. Instead, he just plowed on:

"Don't say you love me, Molly, don't. What did you really think was going to happen when you came tonight? Did you think I was going to pitch the past in the rubbish and open up my loving arms for you to come running into? Honestly, what were you thinking?" His throat was beginning to sting from the tears and from the grating harshness of his words. "You slept with James while you were dating me and had his baby. _You made me think that baby was mine for two whole months! _I can't just take you back."

For the first time all night, Molly's wavering, sensitive side showed through. Her heart was choking on Arthur's words, and her suffering was made all the worse because she knew that she deserved his hatred. She deserved to have her heart gouged out and deserved to have the very breath in her lungs turned stale and vile from the torment she'd caused him.

Arthur had stopped looking at Molly. It was easier to yell at her and hate her when he couldn't see the hurt in her eyes. But he had already caught a glimpse of her face, contorted with heartbreak. He wished he could keep yelling; it felt so good! But his chin was quivering and the anger in his blood had fizzled away. "And now, at the end of it all, the poor baby has to live a horrible life. His…his father and…'mother' are dead…"

"I had to give him up…I had to…" Molly was crying now. "Arthur, I couldn't live with the guilt. Seeing you lift up little Harry and twirl him around…it killed me to smile when I knew the truth. I didn't know if James would take him or not. You — you didn't stick around long enough to find out, but even Lily eventually agreed to take the baby because…well, she was infertile and it was her only chance at having a child."

"Her courage," Arthur finally choked out, staring at the welcome mat again, "impresses me. She stayed with James even though he had betrayed her in the worst way possible. And she lived with the baby that was James's, but had not been borne by her." He swallowed another tennis ball-sized lump.

He could almost feel the daggers in Molly's eyes. Her voice rose. "She stayed not because she was brave, but because her love for James surpassed all other emotions and feelings!" she spat, as if accusing Arthur. "She didn't leave him, even when the seas got stormy."

Arthur looked up sharply. He was a little startled to see that Molly was not angry, but upset. Her eyes were brimming with tears and her chin was trembling. He had almost never seen her so vulnerable. "Are you trying to say I didn't love you?"

"No. Just not enough to stay."

"Molly, I _left_ because I loved you. I _left_ because my love for you surpassed all other emotions and feelings. I loved you so much that when I saw you handing over our baby to James, I felt as though you had driven a stake into my heart. I loved you so much that my pain completely consumed me. To stay would only prove that I _didn't _love you. It would prove that your betrayal meant so little to me that I could still live with you like nothing was wrong. But your betrayal injured me deeply. I left because I loved you…no one could have loved another person more!"

Arthur felt as though he was babbling. He didn't know if his explanation made any sense to anyone other than himself.

But Molly was looking at him. _Really _looking at him. And he knew in that moment that she understood.

"I shouldn't've come," she blurted. "This was stupid of me; dunno what I was thinking…" she was half muttering to herself. She stepped forward in a daze and pressed Arthur's key into his palm. "Goodbye, Arthur. I'm sorry…"

The feeling of her skin on his stayed with him long after she'd disappeared into the darkness of the early morning.

* * *

He could not get her out of his mind.

She had done the unthinkable. She had slept with another man and borne his child. And then, dammit, she had the audacity to let him think the baby was his for two entire months.

And yet, despite all of that, he could not stop thinking about her.

The way her cheeks reddened when she was angry; the way she shifted on her feet when she was nervous; the way her eyes used to shine bright with love when she looked at him…

Had he been imagining things, or had he seen that brightness in her eyes last night?

No. People do not betray those they love.

End of story.

* * *

It must have been hard for her to give up her baby to James and Lily. It had been very courageous of her to give up her own baby.

No… She only gave up Harry because she felt guilty.

What if it was a symbol of her love? What if she had loved him so much that the guilt had been eating her from the inside out, and the only way to alleviate that was to give up her baby? What if she had given up her baby, her own flesh and blood, because she loved him?

"_To err is human…to forgive is divine."_

* * *

It couldn't be possible.

He couldn't be falling in love with Molly Prewett all over again. She had hurt him once before. What was stopping her from doing it again?

* * *

He was falling in love with her again.

That is, if he had ever stopped loving her in the first place.

* * *

And that was highly unlikely.

* * *

Despite the storm that was brewing inside Arthur Weasley's stomach, the weather was perfectly clear and sunny outside. Birds chirped in nearby trees and people bustled around the street, talking and laughing merrily. For the life of him, Arthur could not understand how the world could be so calm and happy when he felt like butterflies were fighting inside him.

He reached out and rang the doorbell.

He wanted to book right then; tear away from Molly's doorstep and never look back. But something made him stay where he was, rocking nervously on her welcome mat with his hands stuck in his shabby coat's pockets.

The doorknob turned. It was too late to leave, even if he wanted to.

The apartment door opened, revealing a very tired Molly Prewett.

"Molly," he said awkwardly. "Hello."

For a second, Arthur feared she would close the door in his face. He should have known she would not. After a long moment of silence, she returned the greeting. "Hello, Arthur. This is a surprise."

"Yes, I know, I'm sorry, you're not busy now, are you?"

She shook her head, though Arthur was unconvinced. "No, no," she answered breathlessly, "I just got back from work and was resting. Please, come in." She took a step back, allowing him entrance into her home.

Arthur walked past her and looked around. Her apartment was in a bad state. There was barely any furniture, and what there was of it was patched and clearly second-hand. The previous occupants must have owned a vicious pet of some sort, because the olive-colored carpeting was missing a bite here and there, and very worn. The evening sun was diluted through the grimy window on the far side of the apartment near the kitchen.

"It's a mess, I'm sorry," Molly said hastily.

Arthur shook his head. "Don't worry. Mine's the same. Besides, it's my fault for coming over without notice." He cleared his throat and focused his gaze on Molly. He came over for a reason, and he did not want to hide behind awkward exchanges and pleasantries.

"Molly, I came over today because I'm finally starting to see."

"Arthur — what — "

"Don't interrupt, Merlin Molly, you never were very good at listening, were you?" His voice was lightly teasing, not cruel. "I'm finally starting to see. I never liked to think about what happened in the past, because it always hurt so much. But after you came to my doorstep a week ago, the memories wouldn't stop running through my mind." He took the beanie off his head and began twisting it with his fingers. "I've been reviewing the things that happened, and, well…"

Arthur wet his lips and sighed. "I'm godawful at this, I really am. Can you believe that I rehearsed it, too? Stood in front of the mirror and everything, talking to the damn thing like it was you. 'Course, I was actually looking at myself, so it was really kind of odd, but I did the best I could, considering — "

His ramblings came to a fierce halt when he felt Molly's hand on his forearm. He saw a flicker of fear in her emerald eyes for a moment, but it melted away when he did not recoil like last time she had tried to touch him. Feeling her through his shirt gave Arthur an extra boost of courage. He smiled at her though slightly wet eyes.

"Molly, I love you."

He couldn't be sure through the watery glaze over his eyes, but he thought Molly might be smiling tearfully. He heard her take in air loudly, then her voice rose forth like a whisper from her heart: "Oh…please…Arthur…say it again."

He struggled against the lump (that damned tennis ball-sized lump!) in his throat and repeated, "Molly, I love you." He took hold of her shoulders. "I always thought that you giving up Harry to the Potters was a sign that you didn't love me. But it was just the opposite, wasn't it?" At risk of sounding arrogant, he continued, "You loved me so much that you were willing to give up your baby — something that, having grown inside you, was essentially a _part_ of you — so our love could continue. Oh Molly, I accused you of giving him up out of guilt, but that was not the whole truth, was it? You have him up for the same reason I left. Because…because…"

He saw in her eyes that Molly did not find his reasoning arrogant. "Because I loved you," she finished in that same whisper as before. "And I still do…Arthur Weasley, I love you."

It would be different. If — _when _they got back together, things would not be the same as they were when the two of them were eighteen. But the love would be just as strong — stronger, even, for the trials they had suffered were many. And one cannot truly know happiness unless they have felt the sting of sadness.

The two fell into an embrace, feeling each other, holding each other, for the first time in four years. For that moment, the burden of the growing war fell away and all troubles evaporated into nothing.

This is the ending of one story, but the beginning of a whole new one. But there's no need to continue. I think you all know that story.

"_To err is human, to forgive is divine."_


End file.
